i was born in the winter in 1990 in a country not my own
i was born with my father’s eyes maybe i stole them he
doesn’t look like that anymore i was born
in seven countries i was born carved up by borders
i was born with a graveyard of languages for teeth i was
born to be a darkness in an american boy’s bed or i
was born with many names to fill the quiet i forget
which one is mine i forget what is silence &
what is a language i cannot speak i was born
crookedhearted born ticking born on the
subway platform at 103rd st fainting blood sliding
around thin as water in my body i was born
to the woman who caught me floating into the train & to
every pair of hands keeping me from dying my mother’s
cool fingers snaking my hair into braids my grandmother’s
thick knuckles collecting my feet in her lap & my own
cupped for rainwater raising every day to my own mouth
to drink
2016
Regular
Contemporary
2023
Family
Identity
Intersectionality & Culture
Poems of Place
Anaphora
a figure of speech in which words repeat at the beginning of successive clauses, phrases, or sentences
Caesura
a break between words within a metrical foot